Your body is hovering between a cool 20 degrees celsi-whatever and WOAH NOW IT'S 97 annnnd back down to freezing and now you're sweating and WHAT? Is going on?
You dream that you asked your love interest out and they said no, and when you wake up to spend 5 days in mourning, listening to Adele songs and writing poetry before you realize it didn't actually happen.
Oh, I see you've thrown up on your own shoes. Excellent.
You dream you asked your love interest out and they said yes and you throw a huge soiree, do something nice for your little sister, and do 400 push-ups because you just can't not before you realize it didn't actually happen.
Your eyes are dialated. Or, you think they are. Everyone is looking at you funny for SOME reason.
Your heart is palpitating. You're sweating and lethargic. You're in love. Or you just downed Taco Bell Third Meal.
You start caring what you wear more, wondering, "Is this great white shark hat I'm wearing to the party really sexy enough?"
You start thinking everyone you see is your crush, even that one time you saw Barbara Walters on a rerun of The View, and that was definitely not your crush.
You bop around the house humming that "I've Got A Crush On You" song. And man, you used to really hate that song.
You ask your mom to drop you off five blocks away from the movie theater instead of one.
You're going garlic-free, in the event you ever have the opportunity for a random makeout sesh.
You go to write your English exam, and afterward you note that all you wrote is "LOVEY DOVEY LAND SWEETIE PIE CHEEKS" repeatedly—something that gets you (impressively) a D.
You're downing indigestion medication like there's no tomorrow, despite your new raw, organic diet. THOSE ARE BUTTERFLIES, MY MAN.
You get to know said butterflies so well you've named them after all US Presidents, FLOTUSes, and first children and dogs.
You're pretty sure your boogers are starting to form the shape of hearts.